


You'll Always Feel This Way

by wakingup



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Eventual Smut, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, High School, M/M, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-09 19:10:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16455671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakingup/pseuds/wakingup
Summary: It's Frank's birthday and he's gonna A) get drunk B) hit on Gerard C) get laid. Yeah, it's definitely going to work out like that. (Spoiler alert: it might not be that easy)





	You'll Always Feel This Way

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS MY FIRST FIC I'M EVER POSTING OMG 
> 
> I've only been like, writing and abandoning fics before completion for like, the last 10 years, no big deal. 
> 
> Anyway, I started this like 6 years ago, and I'm not sure I remember where it was supposed to go, but I recently decided to finish it up so I could post it. I wouldn't say it's my masterpiece, and boy is it angsty, but whatever! Enjoy? 
> 
> Title is from: trouble breathing- alkaline trio

Sometimes, Frank just really fucking wanted to be drunk. He wanted to stop feeling. Fuck it. It was his birthday. He had a nagging hope that if he got drunk enough, things would just work out for him, and maybe he would be less of a no-one-wants-to-date-me (spin the bottle and that girl at summer camp when he was twelve, do not count), fucking virgin that no one could possibly be attracted to. He was sixteen now. He was still small and weird and "faggy" and whatever, but he was also sixteen now, so fuck you very much.  
  
He had a plan for tonight. He was going to get really fucking drunk.  
  
During this drunkenness, he was either going to find a random hot guy to make out with that would then ask him on a date (the second was optional, they could at least just make out, right?), or he was going to make aborted attempts to hit on Gerard, or Gerard was going to hit on him cause it was his birthday and things would work out, or he was going to spill his guts to Gerard, or Gerard would just give him that stupid calculating-intense-dark-eyed look he had and they would just kiss and be in love. Frank had thought about this a lot.  
  
It was his fucking birthday, and he was already drunk.  
  
Dewees was _awesome_. Seriously, what a fucking good guy. This was hands down the best party he had ever been to, and it was his Halloween/birthday party, in Gabe's house somewhere on the outskirts of town. Fucking Gabe. He only knew about half of the people there, but there were a lot, so it didn't really matter, and it wasn't one of the situations where he didn't even feel like it was his party. No. It was definitely his party.  
  
"Fraaaaank! You fucker, happy birthday!" Some girls he didn't even recognize yelled at him, and literally threw two cans of beer his way. Sweet.  
  
"Hey, thanks! Fucking awesome!" He beamed, dumped one of the cans in his pocket and cracked open the other.  
  
Yeah, good party.  
  
Frank wandered back into the kitchen, exclaiming a happy sound to see most of his best friends assembled in a corner. The chorus of "FRAAANKKK" was almost deafening, even though he had definitely seen these fuckers less than half an hour ago. Whatever! Friends!  
  
Frank bounded over, crashing into Ray and Mikey and hugging them so tightly around the middle that Gerard had to pry him off. He giggled and snuggled up against Gerard, the buzz of so many beers sloshing through his system. No one seemed to notice and they continued on as normal.  
  
Pete seemed to be the one talking, perched on the counter behind Mikey with his legs wrapped around Mikey's middle. Frank couldn't really pay attention, though, with Gerard's arm wrapped around him and his face burried in Gerard's warm neck. He proceeded to butt his nose against Gerard's cheek three times before Gerard looked down at him, smiling brilliantly. "Hi." He squeezed Frank's shoulder. His eyes were a bit red, Frank could see now, and he smelled like vodka. It was sloppy and awesome. So fitting for Nancy.  
  
Oh, right. Frank was Sid Vicious tonight. Gerard was Nancy. /Zombie/ Nancy and Sid. They had had a long conversation on if this was appropriate or not, did it perpetuate violence against women, should they glorify an already idyllic pair like this, etc. They decided that making them zombies and Gerard in drag was enough of a statement that it was okay. So, here they were.  
  
Frank hadn't realized how drunk he was until this moment, pressed against Gerard like this. God, he just wanted to be _touched_ so badly it hurt. He could so easily reach up and kiss the fuck out of Gerard. And although he was drunk off of his ass and he was pretty sure Gerard was relatively drunk as well, he was still too terrified to actually do anything. But he could be less than subtle without being explicit. Yeah. Do that.  
  
So he nuzzled into Gerard's neck and whispered loudly in his ear. "You look so fucking awesome tonight, Gee." Gerard grinned and fucking blushed and Frank felt pretty proud of himself. Oh yeah. He was going to do it. Tonight. It was going to happen. He just needed to be more drunk, first. Frank stood there staring goofily for a moment longer, then he reached up and pecked Gerard on the cheek before he sidled away. "Fucking drink, you fuckers, it's my birthday!" He yelled behind himself as he slipped out onto the back porch. He barely heard the "Fuck you, Iero!"s and "WE KNOW" before he was outside in the cool night air.  
  
Frank noticed that Gabe and his crew were sitting along the railing, and happily skipped over to join. He had no attention span tonight, but these guys were perfect for that. They wouldn't want to involve him in long debates about Batman, like he was pretty sure Ray and Mikey had been arguing over. Frank had a lot of opinions, but fuck, just not right now. Frank hopped up on the railing with less difficulty than he expected, feeling proud of himself. Take that, shortness and drunkenness. He pulled the other beer from his pocket and opened it up, taking a long sip as he settled down next to Gabe.    
  
"Frank, Frank, my man! You're legal." He waggled his eyebrows at Frank, and it looked so ridiculous that he burst out laughing.  
  
"Fuck yeah I am!"  
  
"Got your eye on anything pretty tonight?" Gabe half-whispered, but suddenly everyone was looking at him.  
  
William, Victoria, and Travis all looked very amused. There were some other tall dudes he didn't recognize and another girl with blonde hair, and they were all looking at him expectantly.  
  
Feeling weirdly brave, Frank smirked. Well, and blushed like hell, but whatever. "Sid just couldn't live without Nancy, could he?" He muttered, rather smoothly if he did say so himself. Okay, he wasn't actually trying to refer to Sid and Nancy specifically, cause that situation was fucked, but whatever. They obviously got the point.  
  
"HAH, I knew it!" Gabe trumpeted and clapped Frank on the shoulder. Frank felt a moment of oh fuck what did I just do, when he was suddenly grabbed roughly by the bottom of his leather jacket and yanked backwards off of the porch.  
  
"FUCKKKK" he screamed involuntarily, landing in a painful heap smack on top of something fuzzy.  
  
"What the fuck!" Frank yelled, punching whoever it was hard in their fuzzy….shoulder….back….something.  
  
"Oh my god! That scream! Fucking great!" The fuzzy thing wheezed. Frank hoped he'd kicked this thing in the balls on his way down.  
  
"Dewees! You asshole!" He yelled, thumping him a few more times for good measure--but he was laughing now too.  
  
"Shit, man." Frank wiped his eyes, totally smearing some fake blood and other make up as he did so, but he really didn't care. He scooted so his back was resting against the base of the porch now. His head flopped backwards, trying to catch his breath. He went to take a sip of his beer, except--fuck, it was gone. He must have lost it on his way down. Huh. No wonder his shirt was kind of wet. Oh well, he'd get more soon.  
  
Dewees was still laughing, his fuzzy limbs flopping around. Frank somehow hadn't seen him in this costume yet. When he'd seen Dewees a few hours ago, he'd been in a pirate outfit. "What the fuck are you?"  
  
"I'm a puppy! Look how cute I am!" Dewees flailed his fuzzy arms around, and then rolled unto his back, limbs in the air, panting like a dog. Okay, it was kind of cute.  
  
"You look demented. Very charming, dude."  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
"Like I'd let your dirty dick anywhere near my pristine temple."  
  
"Uh, ew, fuck you even more, dude. Also, it's only pristine cause no one wants to touch it."  
  
Frank scowled. Good one. Asshole. If it was anyone else, he might feel a little offended (kind of a touchy subject for him, especially tonight…), but it was Dewees so he really didn't mind.  
  
They were silent for a minute, the sounds of the party raging on inside washing over them.  
  
"Thanks, dude. This is so fucking great." Frank grinned sincerely, patting Dewees' fuzzy shoulder.  
  
"Hey. Don't mention it. You're sixteen, it's Halloween, and it's an excuse to get drunk. And high." Dewees giggled and rolled up into a sitting position.  
  
"Fuck yeah. Speaking of, you made me lose my beer. Back inside!" Frank exclaiming, stumbling to his feet, using Dewees to lever himself up, and rocketing back up the steps and into the kitchen. He heard Dewees' heavy footsteps behind him, but he stopped short in the kitchen, and they crashed into each other painfully. "Owwww." Frank groaned. Not fair. Fuckin' Dewees.  
  
"Sorry, dude!" The guy was fucking giggling again, and without waiting for Frank, he was on his feet and wandering back into the living room. Fucker. Frank shook his head and rolled into a sitting position, trying to catch his breath again. He came face to face with a set of black tights full of runs and a short black skirt. Frank grinned and looked up to see Gee, in all of his blonde, black corseted fucking glory, looking down at him. Frank could barely fucking breathe, the way Gee was looking at him right now. It was like the rest of the party had disappeared, and he suddenly felt way less confident but all the more desperate for his plan (okay, so "get Gee" wasn't much of a plan…) to work out. Frank quirked an unsure smile at him, and Gerard rolled his eyes, grabbed his arms and hoisted him up. His heels didn't even wobble. Damn, Frank was so far gone.  
  
"I'm not that sloppy, I promise?" Frank tried to look innocent, his head swimming a bit. Gerard just laughed, grabbed unto Frank's elbow, and pulled them sideways so that they could lean against the cupboards. Gerard pulled a flask out of his fucking chest just then, took a swig, and offered it to Frank with a raised, sculpted eyebrow. Frank wanted to lick it. He didn't care if it was mostly make up. Instead, he took the flask, and took a long, painful swig of the cheap, burning vodka. It was awesome. Frank licked his lips and swallowed a few extra times, trying to get rid of the taste, and handed the flask back. Oh fuck, he was really drunk by now. His filter was all but fucking gone, and he didn't even feel bad about it. But he definitely felt his fucking nerves jittering beneath his skin.  
  
"Gee. Gee. Hey." Frank nudged Gerard in the side, where his pale skin was showing between the corset and the skirt.  
  
"Yeah, Frankie?" He muttered, taking another swig of vodka himself. Gerard leaned on him more, and just then Frank noticed that he hadn't let go of Frank's side. He felt so good and warm.  
  
"Having a good time?" Frank grinned at him, probably looking like an idiot but he didn't care. Gerard looked so fucking delicious right now.  
  
"Hell yeah." He grinned, taking another hasty sip of the vodka, peering down at Frank between eyelashes full of mascara. "You?"  
  
"Fucking best birthday ever." Frank knew he was leaning into him now, too. They were so fucking close. It was killing him and it was awesome at the same time. But it was tearing his nerves to shreds, he wanted it to be something so fucking badly but what if it wasn't? What if it was just….this. Frank and Gerard, friends forever, and shit.  
  
But no. This felt different.  
  
They were just kind of standing there, looking at each other. He didn't feel that awkward at the silence, but he did feel like he couldn't keep staring at Gerard like this or he was going to explode. Before he could stop himself, he leaned forward, lifted some blonde curls, and spoke into Gerard's ear.  
  
"It would be pretty appropriate of zombie Sid and Nancy if I started chewing on your neck right about now." Gerard's hands clenched tighter against his sides, pulled Frank a little bit closer. He felt his veins thrum in a hopeful key. He didn't really know what to say next, his fingers stroking Gerard's exposed skin pretty obviously. Then, "But, would it fit us, Gee?" He felt like he was holding his breath in anticipation. Gerard couldn't ignore an outright question like that, right?  
  
He glanced over Gerard's shoulder to see Mikey staring at them pretty openly. They made eye contact--or at least Frank thought they did-- and Mikey gave him a thumbs up. Weird. He felt kind of exposed now though. His eyes slipped back to Gerard, to see that he was looking out the window to the porch. Frank was just turning his head to see what he was looking at, when the door to the kitchen burst open--fuck, that was not the first time he had heard it hit the wall, too, hopefully Gabe had some plan for any damage--and Bert, Quinn, and Jeph poured in. Frank couldn't help it. At the sight of Bert he felt his stomach drop. Whatever. Bert was cool. Sort of. About most things. But Frank did not really want him here right now. Especially since he felt Gerard's arm drop from his side then, and his body heat felt further away. Whatever, he was just being polite. It would be rude to ignore them all, right? Except, Frank didn't really care about being rude, he just wanted Gerard to come closer again. Fuck.  
  
"Frankie! Happy birthday!" Jeph beamed, and suddenly two slightly smelly bodies and one very clean (Quinn) one were pressed against him, hugging him and spouting all kinds of non-sense about growing up. Frank couldn't help but laugh and squirm around a little, trying to hug them back as best he could.  
  
"Hey, uh, thanks for coming!" Except you, right now, Bert, fuck. Whatever. He could play it cool.  
  
"Here! Have beer!" Quinn declared, shoving three bottles at him. Fucking score. Now he was legitimately happy to see these guys, fuck yeah.  
  
That was, until he noticed Bert was no longer paying attention to him, but was pretty openly looking Gerard up and down. Gerard's arms were crossed and he didn't look very pleased, or maybe he was just trying to look that way, and Frank didn't really know but it still made him feel sick. "Damn, Gee. Don't you look like hot shit tonight?" Bert curled a finger into Gerard's blonde wig, and that was enough for Gerard to go stomping away into the living room. Frank watched him go sadly, wanting to follow but suddenly feeling really young and awkward. He knew Bert and Gerard had barely been a thing and were so over, but how the fuck was he supposed to compete with Bert's confidence and fucking sex prowess that Frank sure as hell didn't have? Fuck.  
  
Whatever. Beer. It wasn't going to help his stomach feel any better, but maybe he didn't want to feel better. Feeling worse was a legitimate option. If he drank all three of these, he would definitely black out, and maybe that's what he should aim for. It would probably be better for him in the long run than actually trying to kiss Gerard or something absurd.  
  
He opened one and downed half of it while Quinn and Jeph cheered him on. He then half-listened as they talked about how they'd acquired said beer, but mostly he stood there quietly feeling like shit. Whatever. It was kind of an interesting story, though, so despite himself he was drawn into it a bit. Apparently they had just gone into the liquor store, filled an open backpack with as much beer as possible, and then run like hell. Damn. Props.  
  
Frank was feeling a bit better after about ten minutes of Quinn and Jeph stories, and maybe he had just been overreacting to Bert and Gerard. He might as well go find Gee now. Even drunk Gerard didn't usually feel comfortable at parties, and Ray and Mikey were still in the corner of the kitchen, so Gerard must be off somewhere fending for himself and could probably use Frank right about now.  
  
Yes, right, find Gerard. Frank downed the rest of the bottle, and tucked it back in one of his inner coat pockets without really thinking about it. He noticed that there were two crumpled cans in there as well. Huh. Damn, he should find somewhere to sit after finding Gerard. His head was feeling fucking heavy, and he was starting to feel tired, too. Or floppy.  
  
Frank wandered into the living room in the middle of another story, but Quinn and Jeph didn't seem to mind, just yelled a "Bye, Frank!" to him. It took about five whole minutes to figure out that Gerard wasn't in the living room, which made sense, since there were a lot of people dancing in here and that just wasn't really Gee's scene. Gabe and William were making out in a corner, and Dewees was talking to Jamia and Victoria and like ten other people Frank didn't recognize. He tapped Dewees on the shoulder, but it was more like slapping him, really, but he didn't seem to mind. "Have you seen Gerard?"  
  
"What!?" Victoria and Dewees yelled back at the same time.  
  
"Gerard!" He yelled again. Dewees shook his head, but Jamia nodded and pointed around the corner to the hallway. Frank gave them a thumbs up, and turned to go, but Jamia caught his arm. Her expression was hard to read, and he really just wanted to go find Gee, but she looked kind of worried or something. "Hey, Frank, maybe you should stay here for a while. Wanna dance?"  
  
"Huh?" He tilted his head at her.  
  
"Maybe, like, don't go find him yet. Let's dance!" Frank looked at her quizzically for a second, then looked at the dance floor. No, definitely too overwhelming right now.  
  
"I'm good! Thanks! You dance!" Frank smiled at her, patting her head in a friendly gesture.  
  
She just gave him a hesitant smile. Weird. Maybe she felt uncomfortable at parties, too, sometimes. Frank would remember to check on her later, he would do that, yes.    
  
Frank waved goodbye over his shoulder, turning the corner into the hallway. It was kind of dark, but he could definitely make out Gerard's blonde wig. Except…fuck. Bert had Gerard pressed against the wall, his mouth on Gerard's neck, his hand on Gee's ass underneath the short skirt, and Gee's hands were pulling him closer---and, well, fuck. He must have made a noise or something, or maybe Gerard's eyes hadn't been closed, but suddenly Gerard's hands dropped from Bert and he stopped moving---stopped arcing up into Bert like he had been. He was looking right at Frank, and Frank didn't know what to fucking do. And then Bert glanced over, grinned, and said "Hi, Frankie." And Frank felt like he was going to die. He was going to throw up all over them and he was going to fucking die. And even though it felt like his stomach had fucking rocketed into the floor and his fists were definitely clenched, he somehow found it in himself to fucking smile at them. He hoped it didn't look as broken as it felt. He felt like he was shaking, but it was sort of dark and they probably couldn't tell.  
  
"Hey, uh--sorry." Frank mumbled, turning around and quickly going back into the living room, out of view of fucking Gerard's dark eyes fucking staring at him like someone had done something wrong and that was ridiculous it's not like there was any damn reason in the world that he shouldn't make out with Bert.  
  
He knew, instinctively, that neither of them were going to follow him, because, well, why the fuck would they? He leaned against the wall in the living room, just for a minute. Jamia was right there, and she was biting her lip, like she didn't know what to say but totally got it, and Frank just lost it, he shook his head, and ran. Back through the kitchen, slamming the door behind him with great force but not even feeling bad for Gabe's house for a second, jumped off the fucking porch, and ran around the side of the house, down the street, in the middle of the fucking street at probably two in the morning, and when he was a good three blocks away, he stopped and just fucking screamed. He screamed and hoped no one could hear how fucking pathetic he was and it just wasn't fucking fair. Nothing was fucking fair. It wasn't fair.  
  
It was his birthday, god dammit. And, fuck. It wasn't like he was surprised. Of course Gee still liked Bert. Everyone knew Bert "fucked like an animal" and was a crazy motherfucker but like that was supposed to be sexy or something. And Frank was just fucking sixteen and short and a fucking virgin and he wasn't a jackass and, well, fuck Gerard. Fuck this. It wasn't fucking fair at all. He wasn't surprised, but that didn't mean it didn't suck. He was so fucking stupid.  
  
Frank realized he was in the middle of the road, and even though it was unlikely that people were still awake in this neighborhood, there still might be cops and he was totally wasted off his ass. And he had more beer. Oh, fuck yeah. Frank popped another bottle open, drinking almost the entire thing at once. He felt like he was going to burst. He lowered the bottle, panting, turning around in a stagger. He didn't know what else to do, so he walked back towards the party, trying to walk in a straight line down the road but totally failing. He didn't fucking care. He finished that bottle, and smashed it against the road. That felt awesome. He pulled the other empty bottle from his jacket and smashed that one, too. He wished he had more.  
  
When he got back to Gabe's house, he really couldn't bring himself to go inside, and fuck, he sort of felt like he was dying now. He just wanted to sleep. Fuck Gerard. He was supposed to spend the night at the Way's tonight, no way in hell could he go home like this, but it's not like he was going to go find Gerard and tell him that he wanted to fucking leave. He was probably in the bathroom with Bert by now. Fuck.  
  
Frank curled up against the side of the house in the shadows, popping the last beer open. He drank it less quickly than the last one. How the hell could so much liquid fit in his body? Fuck. He kind of felt like crying but he wasn't going to. What was the point. Fuck this.  
  
He'd only been there ten minutes or so when he heard Mikey's voice coming around the side of the house. "Fucking Gerard, he's such a stupid asshole! Where the hell could Frank be?"  
  
"I don't know, dude, he could be anywhere…." Pete was trailing after him when they came into view. They hadn't seen Frank yet, and he was tempted to just let them pass. He almost did without meaning to, too, they were moving so fast, it was like a blur to him.  
  
Just when Pete was a few feet past him, though, he managed a "Hey" and the two whirled around.  
  
They just stared at him for a moment, the pitiful fucking mess he was, a drunken heap in the shadows outside his own party. Fuck.  
  
They looked so sorry for him, and that made it a lot worse. What the hell. Like they even knew. Except, they probably did. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.  
  
"Frank…" Mikey started, clearly not knowing what to say. Frank sniffled.  
  
"Gerard is an asshole." Pete added helpfully. Normally Mikey, and Frank, for that matter, didn't let anyone talk shit about Gerard, but this was obviously an exception.  
  
"Whatever. He can do whatever he wants. I'm just, y'know, tired." Frank sniffed again. "And really drunk." He tried for some uneasy laughter, but it totally sounded fucking bitter. He was sinking down the wall at this point and didn't much care.  
  
Mikey and Pete, bless them, didn't push it or make him talk about his feelings or any of that bullshit. Mikey just said, "Want to go? Pete's pretty sober now."  
  
Frank nodded.  
  
"Did you like…want to say bye to anyone?" Pete offered, as if shit wasn't weird. Mikey shot him a look and he kind of shrunk.  
  
"Let's fucking go." Frank finished the last of his final beer. He stalked back towards the street and smashed it, too. Why not.  
  
The ride back to the Way house was pretty quiet. Frank didn't ask where he was going to sleep, since he usually slept in Gerard's room since it was so big, but he trusted Mikey to figure something out. Pete and Mikey were holding hands as Pete drove, talking quietly every once in a while. Lucky fucks.  
  
Once there, they stumbled upstairs to Mikey's room pretty quietly. Pete had to practically drag Frank. He could barely see straight. He fell face first on Mikey's carpet and didn't get up, even when Mikey kicked him pretty good in the leg a few times. "Hey, fucker, get the fuck up."  
  
"Huh? No…." Frank mumbled, his head pounding. Man, he should have thrown up earlier. Oh god, he was going to throw up now.  
  
He bolted upright, shoved Mikey out of the way, and ran down the hall to the bathroom. He managed to hit the toilet and puke pretty neatly. Good for him, damn.  
  
What felt like hours later, Mikey and Pete both came in and started rubbing his back. Somehow they got his costume off, and Mikey even fucking cleaned his face with a wet washcloth, getting most of the fake blood off.  
  
"Drink." Pete commanded, shoving a glass of water under his nose. Frank had enough sense to swirl some water around and spit first, before drinking the whole thing. It almost made him throw up again.  
  
"Take these fucking pants off." Mikey  
  
"Caaaan't…." Frank groaned, his arms tight over his stomach. Fuck, he just wanted to sleep. "Sleep?"  
  
"Soon. Get these off. I'm not undoing your pants for you, I draw the line there."  
  
"But aren't I sexy…." Frank couldn't help himself.  
  
"Asshole. Hurry up."  
  
Somehow Frank managed to get out of his tight fucking black jeans, and Pete, bless his soul, even helped him. Then Mikey shoved a clean t-shirt over his head. Wow getting ready for bed had never been such a fucking task before.  
  
"Need to throw up more?" Mikey asked.  
  
"I dunno…." Frank grumbled, feeling so fucking miserable.  
  
"I'll take that as a no. We'll keep a bucket in my room just in case. C'mon." Mikey and Pete helped him up, and before he knew it he was back in Mikey's room. They dumped him on the middle of MIkey's bed, and five minutes later crawled in on either side of him.  
  
"I can…sleep on the floor." Frank mumbled, already fading.  
  
"Shut up." Mikey ordered.  
  
"Seconded. Cuddle times are always good." Pete added too cheerfully.  
  
They were all quiet for a moment longer.  
  
"It's my birthday. It's not fair." Frank whined, sniffling again.  
  
"I know. I know, Frankie." Mikey sounded unsettling sincere, and Frank finally got to fall asleep, and all things considered it could be worse, at least he wasn't sleeping alone.  
  
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The first time he woke up, it was eight am and he felt fucking awful. Pete and Mikey were still on either side of him, but Pete was awake, just laying there. Frank groaned and shifted a bit. "Hey. How do you feel?" Frank had previously never been aware that Pete was capable of whispering.  
  
"My stomach feels like there's a dragon war inside. And my head just hates me." He groaned, keeping his eyes closed, but trying to massage his temples.  
  
Pete got up, but came back in another minute with more water. Frank forced himself to drink it even though it made his stomach hurt more. He knew it would help. Pete was insistent that he drink two more glasses, but relented after one and a half. Frank felt like he was going to die if he put anything else in his body right now.  
  
Once Pete was back under the covers, he started stroking Frank's hair. "Go back to sleep, man. You'll feel better next time you wake up."  
  
Frank just groaned in response. "Thanks." He muttered, feeling so fucking pathetic. He was doing his best not to think about the night before. It was so hard not to think about Bert's hand on Gerard's ass, the way he'd been keening for Bert's touch, making it obvious how good it felt, and Bert's fucking smug face, and---fuck. It was stupid how awful this made him feel.  
  
Even though it took another twenty minutes to fall asleep, Pete kept stroking his hair the whole time. Frank had great fucking friends.  
  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
The second time he woke up, he was alone. This must mean it was pretty late, Mikey never got up early, even though Pete's sleeping patterns were super weird.  
  
Frank just laid there for another five minutes, blanket pulled over his head, trying to assess how he felt. Physically--the dragons in his stomach are more skirmishing than waging actual war, and he has a headache but he doesn't feel like he's going to die. So that's good. Mentally--kind of embarrassed. Kind of really grateful for Pete and Mikey, and that most people hadn't seen his outbursts. Emotionally--still really shitty. Fuck Gerard.  
  
It's hard to motivate himself to get out of bed. He isn't hungry, that's for fucking sure. But he's really thirsty and kind of really wants coffee, and he wants Pete and Mikey to come back and cuddle with him. He should really just get up.  
  
With a sigh and plenty of internal angst, Frank sits up gingerly and shifts so his legs are hanging off the side of the bed. Hey. He doesn't actually feel that bad. Puking was a pretty good idea. Impulse. Thing. Whatever.  
  
He's even wearing clothes, that's kind of awesome. Mikey and Pete are the fucking best. He should go find them. And thank them. And maybe get hang over cuddles because now that he's awake he's really fucking sad. And he's probably going to run into Gerard and his stupid fucking face and he'll be all oblivious like "what could i have possibly done, Frankie?" and Frank will have to act normal and what a fucking asshole.  
  
He isn't even sure if he is allowed to be mad at Gerard right now. He knows he is. But really it's not like Gerard had some obligation to him just because they were technically wearing a couples costume, cause that would be kind of weird and fucked up. But. It's not fair. And Bert sucks. And Frank had tried to be bold and Gerard had just never answered him.  
  
Frank really wants to have some kind of plan for when he encounters Gerard, but he doesn't.  
  
God, he should not be allowed to be this fucking emo. It's not like they were dating. Even though it feels like this is the final nail in the coffin of Frank's hope that Gerard secretly really wants him, too. Because if he did, he wouldn't have made out with Bert at the drop of a hat, right? He would have at least tried to make out with Frank first?  
  
What the fuck. Coffin of Frank's hope. Someone needs to smack him with a two by four. His brain is stupid.  
  
Frank finds himself in the kitchen, and despite his stomach's better judgment, he pours himself a cup of coffee. It'll make his head feel better, at least. He sits at the kitchen table, sips his coffee, and lets his head rest against the worn wood. His mind is mostly blank now, a bit of the angst dissipating for the second, except to wonder vaguely where Pete and Mikey are. His eyes are shut, breathing in the soothing scent of coffee. It's gonna be okay. He'll get over this. It just sucks.  
  
"Frank?"  
  
Frank's head shoots up, too fucking fast, and he curses under his breath at the pain. Gerard is lingering near the coffee pot. Fuck, he doesn't have to be so wraith-like all the time, he could have fucking made some noise and not snuck up on Frank like this. Gerard is in his batman pajama pants and his stupid awesome Watchmen t-shirt, the remnants of make up smudged around his eyes the only hint of his former Nancy-self. Now he's just the slightly hunched over basement hermit with black hair that hasn't been washed in a while and sticks up comically. But Frank doesn't find it funny today, his stomach is lurching uncomfortably, and he just feels like shit all around. He needs to go home.  
  
Gerard turns around and leans against the counter, hands wrapped around a mug that he's sipping and breathing in like it's a gift from fucking god. "Did you have fun last night?" And hell no, Frank does not want to have this conversation.  
  
Gerard knows that something is off. Frank guesses he has no clue what, but there's something way too hesitant about the whole atmosphere. Fuck. Frank can't really remember the details, had he said something? Was it the look on his face? Mikey--no, Mikey wouldn't.  
  
"Yeah. Gabe and Dewees are a match made in party fucking heaven." Frank's voice is scratchy as fuck from puking and sleeping and drinking and lack of use today. He coughs to clear it a bit.  
  
"You sound like shit." Gerard is smiling a bit, and Frank totally hates him.  
  
Frank just glares at him. He's too tired, he needs to get the fuck out of here.  
  
"I'm gonna go." He mumbles, draining his mug and watching Gerard over the top of it. He looks totally confused, a bit hurt, and awkward.  
  
"Why? Wait, Frank--" But Frank has already pushed away from the table, and he dashes upstairs before Gerard can say anything else. He grabs his jeans from the floor and shoves all his shit back into the pockets, and doesn't bother to figure out where the rest of his costume is, just grabs his jacket and stomps back down the stairs. Gerard is lingering at the base, eyes all intense and boring into him.  
  
"Frank? Are you okay?"  
  
"Gee, I'm just--I'm gonna go home. I'll.." Frank was planning on being meaner but of course he's already fucking softening as Gerard stares at him yanking his shoes on. "catch you later."  
  
"Wait, do you want a ride?"  
  
But Frank's already out the door and booking it down the sidewalk at a fast walk, fists clenched at his side. God, he's such a loser, what the fuck is his deal? It shouldn't have been that hard to just act like everything was normal, but Frank's never been good at subtlety and covering shit up. He's way too reactive.  
  
  
He really, really should have taken that ride, though, because he feels like shit, and it takes him almost half an hour to walk home. Usually it's a fine walk but fuck he actually stops to puke behind some bushes in broad fucking daylight. Again, he feels better afterward, though. As soon as he's home, he downs another glass of water. His mom isn't home, which is good, because even though she's totally awesome for a mom he still thinks he's pretty obviously hung over and miserable. He doesn't want to deal with the questions right now.  
  
Frank takes a quick shower, doesn't even bother to jerk off, he feels way too shitty all around to do that, and sprawls out on his bed. He falls asleep within five minutes.  
  
"Frank, honey, it's six o'clock. Wake up, honey, come on." Frank's mom is shaking his shoulder gently, and he manages a pretty unintelligent "uhnnn?" sound.  
  
He's all twisted up in the blankets, but rolls around pretty ungracefully to look up at his mom. She's just smiling at him. "I'm not even going to say anything, since it was your sixteenth birthday. So this is me, not saying anything, and washing those disgusting clothes of yours without any questions." Her arms are folded, and she's not even pretending to be stern with him. Wow. She really loves him. " _Don't_ expect this again."  
  
She gives his thigh a sharp slap with an all too happy smile, and Frank groans, still trying to wake the fuck up. "Love you, mom." Because it's the safest thing he can think of.  
  
"Dinner in fifteen minutes. Try not to fall asleep in the ravioli, okay?" She chirps before leaving him to make himself decent.  
  
After he extracts himself from his bed-trap, Frank sees his cell phone sitting on his nightstand. His mom must have put it there when she washed his pants earlier. He flips it open, surprised to see that he has eleven new messages. One each from Gabe, Dewees, Ray, and Jeph, asking how he liked the party and wasn't it great and all that shit. One from Jamia that just says "sooo…are you okay there, bud?". Two from Mikey and Pete (together) that are actually really long and sweet about how he's a hot piece of ass and can cuddle with them anytime as long as he doesn't try and cop a feel at Mikey's junk (Pete's part) but especially if he pukes in Pete's hair next time (Mikey's part) and how is he doing today and does he need anything and whatever. He actually smiles a bit at that. He loves those fuckers.  
  
The other four are from Gerard. The first just says "hey how are you feeling?" sent not long after he left the Way house. Just fifteen minutes after that, "bet you wish I gave you a ride home, you looked like shit." Then an hour after that one, "did I do something frankie? whats up?" And finally, just half an hour ago, "seriously frank, you seemed kinda weird earlier. wanna talk about it?"  
  
Frank sits there chewing his lip for a moment as he stares at the texts from Gerard. Then he rolls his eyes, pulls on a pair of pajama pants, and slides his phone into the pocket. He goes to piss and then tromps down the stairs, feeling pretty much renewed after that nap. His head doesn't even hurt anymore, and his stomach is fucking roaring from hunger. Good job, body. He pats his belly in a pleased sort of way and sits at the kitchen table while his mom finishes dinner.  
  
He makes small talk with his mom about the party, leaving out most details and just emphasizing how great his friends are, and definitely not mentioning Gerard at all, all the while texting everyone (except Gerard) back. He hesitates over Jamia's, and settles on "right as fuckin rain, see you tomorrow." She will totally not accept that shit, but he doesn't know what the fuck else to tell her. Anyway Jamia and Dewees are the only two people he actually goes to that catholic hell-hole with so he'll see them both tomorrow. If she really wants to, they can talk about his emotions then.  
  
He's just finishing up when he gets another from Gerard, "are you mad at me?"  
  
Again, he ignores it, and types a long, snarky, and loving reply to Mikey.  
  
"fucker i know you just texted mikey back. talk to me."  
  
Frank rolls his eyes again. Gerard is always so fucking into talking about feelings and Frank really doesn't know what to say to him. He also knows that ignoring Gerard will make him totally crazy, so he's gonna keep it up just a bit longer.  
  
Then, dinner is ready. He snaps his phone shut and helps his mom set the table, because he's a good boy, sometimes. They're about half-way through eating when his mom asks, "How did Gerard's costume turn out, by the way? He seemed so embarrassed when he first told me what you two were doing. I could tell he was excited, though, and then he just kept going on about it." His mom smiles. She really likes Gerard. Frank stares at his ravioli, poking around with his fork. "Um, it was really good. I think Pete took some pictures. He makes a good Nancy." He can totally do nonchalance, apparently, because his mom doesn't even give him a funny look. That is, until the end of dinner, when they're cleaning up and she pulls him into a hug. "You okay, honey?" And the moment is too intimate, Frank has to swallow thickly and can't really think of anything to say. "Yeah, mom. Tired?" Which thankfully she accepts, and then shoos him away from doing the dishes.  
  
He bounds back into his room, shuts the door, puts the Misfits on, and flops down on his bed. He's still sort of tired, but not enough to sleep yet. That's all he's done today, anyway. He flips his phone back open and texts some more, still ignoring Gerard (there's two new ones that say "fraaaaaaaank" and "what the fuck man"). Stupid Gerard.  
  
He considers making Mikey come over to hang out, but on second thought he doesn't really feel like socializing. So he tries to do some homework but really just get distracted playing along to Misfits songs on his guitar for a good two hours, and then after some more homework, it's already midnight, so he gets back in bed with a content sigh. He's feeling about five hundred times less dramatic than he did yesterday, until his phone starts buzzing non-stop which means someone is calling, and he sees Gerard's name on the screen. He stares at it for too long, and then at the last second flips it open. Remarkably he goes back to feeling kind of shitty about himself in like .05 seconds.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Fraaaaank, you fuck. Why have you been ignoring me?"  
  
"I was busy, Gee." He can play this cool.  
  
Gerard is quiet for a moment. Frank is desperately aware that he should have just pretended everything was fine because now Gerard knows something is weird and now Frank will need some kind of excuse and fuck he's so stupid he could have avoided this whole thing.  
  
"What did I do?" Gerard's voice is soft and hesitant now.  
  
"Nothing, Gee."  
  
"I don't believe you." He sounds a bit hurt. God, they're so fucking dramatic.  
  
"I don't know what else to tell you."  
  
"C'mon, Frank. Talk to me. What's up with you today?"  
  
"Nothing. Was hung over as shit this morning."  
  
"Is it cause I was supposed to give you a ride home last night? I'm sorry, I didn't know you wanted to leave, Bert--" And Frank does really fucking not want to hear that. He's suddenly hit full force with the image of Gerard backed up against the wall by Bert and fucking loving it. Dammit.  
  
"Dude, Gee, it's not always about you, okay?" He cuts in, and even to himself he sounds a bit nasty. "Just drop it. I'll talk to you later." And he hangs up before Gerard can even respond to that.  
  
"Fuck." He turns his phone off and rolls over on his side, pulling the sheets up over his head so he can pout in safety.  
  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
School sucks, as always, and he pretty much just hangs out with Jamia and Dewees and a few other freaks. He gets called a fag once on Tuesday, but that's about it, so it's a pretty good week by the time Thursday rolls around. He hasn't heard from Gerard at all, so he figures Gerard is mad at him by this point, too. Fine. Frank isn't even mad anymore, really. Just sad. He'll go over this weekend and make up an excuse and it'll be like it never happened.  
  
"Earth to fucking Frank." Jamia cuts into his thoughts, actually waving a hand in front of his face. Damn, people do that in real life?  
  
"Huh? What?"  
  
She rolls her eyes. "I just said there's a show this weekend. Some band from Pennsylvania, and apparently the pits at their shows are fucking sick. So let's go!"  
  
Frank grins hugely and nods. "Fuck yeah." He hasn't been in a pit in like three whole weeks.  
  
Dewees has apparently already got with the program, and is humming some nondescript tune from where he's laying flat out on the picnic table. "Man. Ever wish that, like, life was more like the pit? Where everyone is just fucking going for it and not afraid?"  
  
Frank and Jamia exchange looks. She rolls her eyes and smashes a piece of bread on his stomach, which sends him flailing hilariously off the side of the table.  
  
"Anyway, it's Saturday, let's get drunk in the park before, okay?" Jamia quips happily, chewing on an apple now.  
  
"You're my favorite, always." Frank grins at her lovingly. He feels his pocket vibrate and he pulls his phone out.  
  
It's Gerard, which surprises him. Frank bites his lip distractedly, opening up the message. "hey. movie marathon tomorrow night in my room" Frank just stares at it, already knowing he's going to go.  
  
Jamia smacks his arm. "What?" They ask each other at the same time. She gestures at his phone and tries not to look too annoyed with him.  
  
"I kind of was really pissy with Gee on Sunday and then haven't talked to him since and we usually talk like every day so it's definitely weird and I maybe overreacted and now I feel really weird about it because it's not like I can explain why I was mad at him and just….stop looking at me like that, okay?"  
  
Jamia's a bit wide-eyed and nodding. "That was strangely more intuitive than I expected from you."  
  
Frank snorts. "Uh, thanks?"  
  
"Shut up. Just talk to him. Or don't, and just go hang out. You're both probably weird enough to just act like nothing ever happened and move on."  
  
"So…I should do that?"  
  
"I didn't say that. I mean, I think you should fucking talk to him about the shit that bothers you, but I've been saying that for a good six months now."  
  
"For the record, I think you should just ask him if he wants to fuck because I think your chances are pretty good and then maybe you'll be less whiney." Dewees pipes in from where he fell on the other side of the table.  
  
Frank and Jamia exchange a look again, and simultaneously pelt him with chips and grapes as he squawks.  
  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Frank decides to do the mature thing and actually talk to Gerard, so he shows up half an hour early the next day.  
  
Actually, what this means is he's going for the making excuses route as opposed to the acting like it never happened route. See, mature!  
  
Frank doesn't bother to knock on the front door. He slips his shoes off in the entryway, and gives Gerard three knocks in warning before descending the basement stairs. That gives him like five seconds to put his dick away if he's jerking off.  
  
He's only been away from this room for a week, but he sort of missed it. A lot of days after school he'll come here instead of going home, at least until dinner time, and he's spent many hours doing fuck-all on this shabby, littered floor. He fucking loves Gerard's room.  
  
Gerard is staring at him as he descends the steps, surprised to see him, and something about his look is so /heavy/. Whatever, he invited Frank, don't look so fucking shocked. He's sitting on his bed, like usual, some papers spread out before him. He was drawing. Of course. Frank lingers near the stairs, but drops his coat on the floor like usual.  
  
"Hey, Frankie, I wasn't sure if you were coming."  
  
"Hey man, where else would I be on a Friday night?" He tries for an easy smile. So far so good.  
  
"Maybe ignoring me like you did all week?" Dammit Gerard. Just let this be easy.  
  
"Uh…sorry? I didn't mean to."  
  
"Fuck that." There's not much heat behind his words, more just confusion, so Frank thinks it's still salvageable. "Anyway, what's up?"  
  
"Not much. Boring week." Frank shrugs, coming into the room a bit more and sitting on the end of the bed. "What's that?" He asks, tilting his chin towards the drawing in front of Gerard. He can't really tell from this angle, but looks kind of like--  
  
"Oh. Uh. It's for you." Gerard is staring at him again, and he offers the picture to Frank. Frank stares back for a second, but eventually his eyes fall on the drawing and he takes it. "It's not done yet." Gerard adds quickly.  
  
Frank stares. And stares some more. Of course, Gerard has drawn them. Well, as zombies. Frank as Sid and Gerard as fucking Nancy and they look awesome and spooky and totally badass. He's drawn them in an alley, leaning against a graffitied dumpster, with Frank holding a cigarette to Gerard's lips. What the hell?  
  
Frank has no clue how to react to this. They look kind of sappy over each other in the picture, which makes sense, they're Sid and Nancy, but still…what the fuck?  
  
"Those were good costumes." Frank says neutrally, still staring at the picture, feeling Gerard staring at him. This must be some kind of peace offering for whatever Gerard thinks he could have done wrong. Fine, sure. Frank will take it. He doesn't know what kind of reaction Gerard is looking for.  
  
Finally, he looks back up, and yeah, Gerard is still watching him, waiting for some kind of reaction. "It's amazing, Gee. Like always." Frank smiles a bit as he hands it back so Gerard can finish. He glances at the other papers scattered around Gerard. He sees Mikey, Mikey and Pete, Gabe, all how they looked at the party, and then next to Gerard he sees Bert and his insides twitch. Before he knows what he's doing, his mouth has opened and he's asking, "Why Bert, Gee?" He's suddenly angry again, and he wants a fucking answer.  
  
"What?" Gerard's eyes have widened a bit. He looks like Frank just announced he found a dancing jellybean, he looks so surprised.  
  
No backing out now. And he fucking desperately wants to know. "Why. Bert?" He can hear the tension in his own voice, fucking hopes it doesn't actually break.  
  
"I don't get it."  
  
"Fuck, Gerard!" He shouts suddenly, and he can't fucking stop now. "He treats you like shit! He always ignores you unless he wants something. And then Saturday, what the fuck? I thought you were done with that shit! He doesn't give a fuck about you. I get it, I've heard he's like such an amazing fuck or whatever but seriously, Gee? Why?" His voice got progressively quieter and less even after the initial outburst. Frank kind of wishes he could die right now, but first he really needs to hear Gerard's answer.  
  
Gerard is just staring at him, his face suddenly dark now, twisted up with some emotion Frank can't fucking read. Anger? Hurt? Annoyance? Impatience?  
  
"I don't have to explain myself to you, Frank." Gerard says quietly. Too calmly. Fuck.  
  
"I know. I'm sorry. Fuck. But I--I need to understand. Why you keep doing this to yourself." Frank's nails are digging into his palms and he isn't sure when that happened. And when did his shitty filter decide to full-on fucking break?  
  
Gerard doesn't say anything now. He looks kind of uncomfortable and definitely frustrated now, but he isn't looking at Frank. He's twisting his pencil around in his hands and staring at the bed between them. Frank has almost given up on the answer, almost become desperate enough to change the subject entirely, when Gerard says, "It's not like you'd understand, Frank."  
  
Frank flinches. Gee always tries to explain shit to him. But he's just a stupid kid. Right. Condescension from Gerard hurts like he hadn't expected. "Oh, great. suddenly I'm not worth explaining shit to? What, cause I'm just now sixteen, you're remembering I'm just a fucking kid and I just wouldn't get whatever you're trying to tell me? Okay, Gerard, fuck you." Frank babbles before he can stop himself, wanting to hurt back but totally lacking the ammo.  
  
But now Gerard is mad, too. He huffs out an annoyed breath and throws his pencil down, fixing Frank with a harsh gaze. "That's not what I meant, fucker. I meant you wouldn't understand because well, I just doubt you'd get it, okay? You wouldn't get what it's like to feel like no one wants you. Bert, he, well, yeah, he's a total asshole. But he makes me feel like I'm worth fucking, and that really doesn't fucking happen a lot, okay? So fuck you, don't fucking judge me on this, like I have a slew of options and I'm just picking this one on purpose to make my life shittier. I don't even like him most of the time. You know that."  
  
Frank's insides are contracting uncomfortably. He's floored. He doesn't know how to process any of that shit, but his sharp edges have immediately softened. He simultaneously wants to cuddle up against Gerard and whisper all of his greatness into that fucking black birds-nest of his, and burn down every bullshit thing that has made Gerard feel like he isn't desirable.  
  
"Gee, I--" His hand is shaking a bit when he extends it towards Gerard, and he drops it quickly back to his side. He can't stop staring at him and he doesn't know what the fuck to do.  
  
"Save it, Frank. I don't get why you were mad over this and I don't care." Gerard bites back, but he's already starting to deflate and Frank can see through his bullshit.  
  
"Gee, I'm sorry." He tries again. Fuck, he can never stay mad at Gerard, at all. "I didn't mean to make it sound like I was judging you. I was mad because…." Too many fucking things. "Well, I just…I hate how he treats you, okay? It wasn't really you I was mad at. I guess. Well, about some things, but…" Frank cuts himself off before he can get into a bigger mess, even though Gerard is looking at him curiously. "I hate that he's the one that gets to make you feel, like, wanted, and he doesn't fucking deserve it. At all. And I've just watched him fuck you up over and over." What the fuck is he saying, shut up, shut up, Frank. "And before you give me any bullshit about how Bert's the only option, just don't, cause that's so not fucking true so….stop."  
  
Now they're just staring at each other again, and Frank doesn't even know what he's feeling, and they're both really tense and Gerard just swallows like it requires a lot of effort. Frank scoots along the bed so he's closer and not staring at Gerard over this awkward gap of bed and papers. He has abandoned self-preservation for the moment, too focused on, /remind Gerard how amazing he is, fucking seriously he should never forget it/.  
  
"Gee. You're the fucking best person I know in a lot of ways. I, fuck, I could talk about how great you are for, like, hours." Frank can't help but smile a bit goofily at him, thinking about all the sappy shit he could say right now, but he isn't that far gone yet.  
  
Gerard just nods. Frank knows he doesn't believe him and it's fucking frustrating as shit.  
  
"Gerard. I'm serious." He's staring straight at Gerard, who keeps darting his eyes away, but finally he holds Frank's gaze. Gerard's face is so hard Frank tries not to flinch.  
  
"Okay."  
  
"No. Fuck that." Frank doesn't know what to do to make Gerard believe him short of actually listing a bunch of shit. Or maybe kissing him. Fuck, he really really wants to kiss him. The moment is so heavy he feels sick with it, but he isn't ready to wade back to safer territory yet. He raises his hand and actually puts it on Gerard's cheek, trying with moderate success not to shake.  
  
"You dressed up as fucking zombie Nancy like less than a week ago. You fucking made me half of the t-shirts I wear in my life. You shaved the bat symbol into my head and it actually was flawless. You, like, listen to me when I'm trying to tell you things. And remind me it's important to not listen to what everyone else tells me, especially about me. Like, you remind me that what's important to me is important to me and sometimes no one else fucking matters." God, he is so not good at this, Gerard is the eloquent talker, and he's just fucking tangling himself in some weird emotional web of poorly phrased compliments. "I know that sounds cliche, but, fuck, Gee, that's been so important for me. I'd go fucking crazy if it weren't for you. You actually try and analyze my weirdo fucking dreams of growing flowers from my scalp and whatever. And don't forget you're the only one that ever understands Mikey's face. We would all be so lost without you."  
  
Frank knows this is probably really weird, and Gerard is still just staring at him, but before he fucking changes his mind, he might as well just gush a little more. "And you're totally a hot weirdo artsy gloomy guy and everyone finds that attractive, so shut the fuck up." Frank's blush is heating up his cheeks and he has to look away from Gerard's dark fucking gaze. At least the hard edges of Gerard's face have softened. He lowers his hand back into his own lap.  
  
He bites his lower lip hard, and looks back up at Gerard and they just kind of sit there quietly just looking at each other. Frank feels like he might hyperventilate and he doesn't fucking know what to do. He's tempted to fucking start babbling but he also can't think of shit all to say and really just wants Gerard to say something now.  
  
"Frankie." Gerard breathes, finally, and Frank swallows. "What would I do without you?" Gerard smiles a bit, and tilts forward, his forehead resting on Frank's. His hand rests on the back of Frank's neck, and his eyes flutter closed. Frank's do the same, his stupid fucking heart thudding in his chest. "I'm sorry." Gerard mumbles after a moment.  
  
Frank doesn't know what he's apologizing for. Ten minutes ago he would have been indignant until Gerard apologized, but, fuck. He really hadn't been expecting this. The world is seriously fucked up if someone like Gerard can feel like no one wants him. He reaches forward and grips the crook in Gerard's arm, gives it a light squeeze. "You're my favorite fucking person, Gee. Don't ever forget that."  
  
Gerard nods minutely against him. Both of their eyes are open again, and Gerard backs up a few inches, but he still feels impossibly fucking close. Then he smiles a bit and huffs out a shaky breath. "Jesus, Frank. Look at us." He muses, laughing at them quietly.  
  
Frank swallows, sits up straight again. Gerard squeezes the back of his neck and lets go. Frank runs a hand through his hair. He smiles, sort of. Gerard is still just looking at him, his gaze sort of calculating, but a lot less intense now.  
  
And thank fuck, the basement door bangs open and more than one pair of feet rush down the stairs. Ray and Mikey descend into Gerard's room. Mikey stops and kind of stares at them a little. Frank drops his arm from Gerard's arm, feels himself fucking blushing again. But Ray is totally oblivious (thank fucking god for Ray, seriously), and immediately goes over and starts talking about what movies they should watch that night. Gerard meets Frank's eyes for a second again, smiles, and then starts to clear his bed off.  
  
Frank pointedly does not look at Mikey, and just pulls himself to the corner of Gerard's bed, leans against the wall, and folds in on himself a little. He throws himself into conversation/movie debate with Ray and it's easy not to think too much when they're talking. Bob gets there fifteen minutes later, and after the appropriate amount of heckling and small talk, they finally settle in to watch the movie. Vampires first. It's gonna be awesome.  
  
Gerard is next to him on the bed, and Mikey is on the other side. Bob has claimed the rolly chair, and Ray is sprawled out on a bean bag on the floor. After some careful concentration, Frank finds it's not as hard as he expected to lose himself in the movie. That is, until Gerard is poking his thigh and then dropping a piece of paper on top of his jeans. Huh. Frank grabs the folded paper, brings it close to his face in the dim light from the tv. He had to unfold it like ten times, but eventually he can make out,  
  
"Hi Frank.  
  
Thanks. I don't really know what else to say, but I don't really like just acting like conversations that heavy don't happen, you know? Like they're too important to just brush into the dust, or whatever. Not that we have to talk about it again, just, thanks."  
  
Frank grins a little. Leave it to Gerard to comment on the conversation itself. He reads on.  
  
"But uh, and seriously feel totally free to say no, I'm not like expecting a specific outcome because of what you said, it's not going to hurt my fragile no-one-wants-me ego or whatever, but….  
  
Cuddle during the scary parts? :)  
  
-G"  
  
Frank has to stare and read it three more times. His life is so fucking weird. His face splits into a bigger grin, and he doesn't even care whatever the fuck he might be revealing to Gerard, he's tired of being careful. So Frank folds the note back up and slips it into his pocket.  
  
Then, he looks at the screen, sees some guy writhing underneath the fangs of a vampire couple, and looks at Gerard again. "Damn. That was pretty scary."  
  
"Thanks for the commentary." Bob grunts back, too far away to hit him, thankfully.  
  
But Gerard is looking at him, so fuck Bob. They grin at each other, and then Frank, rather smoothly, he might add, ducks underneath Gerard's arm and burrows against his side. Gerard giggles slightly and Frank feels so fucking warm from it.  
  
Sure, he and Gerard have cuddled plenty of times. But he's never gotten a fucking note asking if they could before.  
  
Once they're comfortable, Gerard's arm is around him and his fingers are trailing up and down Frank's arm. It's so fucking soothing. He is sure Mikey's face is maybe even holding an expression of some sort right now, but he doesn't give a fuck. He just cuddles closer against Gerard and watches some more innocent people get massacred. It's awesome.  
  
After the movie, they go upstairs to scrounge up some food. They used to get pizza like every weekend but Donna said they could eat anything in the house, but if they wanted pizza more than once a month they would have to start paying for it. And, well, they were always broke, so that wasn't going to happen.  
  
They microwave like seven bags of popcorn and make a huge pile of grilled cheese sandwiches. Frank starts a popcorn fight by launching a piece into Bob's soda and then dumping some down his shirt, and it's all out fucking war for at least fifteen minutes. It gets pretty out of hand, and when Pete wanders in the back door, he stops dead in his tracks. Mikey is on top of the fucking fridge, hiding behind a bunch of bananas, Frank has stuffed himself into one of the cupboards, and the other three are hitting each other with wooden spoons. They freeze when they see Pete, as if the intruder into their space has alerted them to the ridiculousness that is occurring. It only lasts for a minute though, and then Bob, Ray, and Gerard launch themselves at Pete next, who screams and runs for his life, yelling absurd insults in his wake.  
  
"You assholes! I am going to glue your pubes to a flag pole! And then I'm gonna leave your mom's used condoms in your beds! Fuck you guys! Stop hitting me! You assshitdickgoblins!"  
  
Frank and Mikey are still in their respective hiding spots, and Frank has been struggling to get free since Pete showed up, but he can't stop laughing enough to get himself unlodged. "Ow, ow, ow…" He gasps between laughs, the wooden edge of the cupboard digging painfully into his hip. He can just glimpse them racing in circles around the backyard, and it looks so ridiculous. Mikey is roaring with laughter, and even pounds the top of the fridge a few times.  
  
"Yeah, and then an /alien/ is gonna jizz all in your hair--STOP HITTING ME!" Pete squawks as Frank finally crawls out of the cupboard, inching across the tiles as he continues to laugh.  
  
He looks out the backdoor to see that Gerard and Ray have both collapsed on the grass, probably from over exertion and from giggling, and Bob is clutching the railing on the back deck. Pete is actually standing on the railing, looking triumphant and indignant all at once.  
  
"Yeah. Fuck you guys. I actually like, go out in the sun and run around sometimes." Pete declares, arms crossed over his chest, his grin wolfish as ever. He hops down from the railing and crosses into the kitchen again, this time without facing an assault. He nudges Frank in the side and pats him on the head where he's slumped against the cupboards now. "Hi, Frank!" He then grins up at Mikey and pokes his side. "You gonna come down here or do I have to come up there?" He asks, all mock-innocent.  
  
Mikey is wheezing a little bit from laughter, but has mostly pulled himself together. "Pete," he breathes, "why the fuck are those your go-to threats?" He asks skeptically, eyebrows raised.  
  
Frank snorts from his place on the floor. "Answer that question when I'm not around. I don't want to know the perverse details."  
  
Mikey glares at him and throws a shower of popcorn, then climbs weirdly gracefully down from the top of the refrigerator. What it must be like to have long-ass limbs.  
  
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Mikeyway." Pete smirks, grabbing Mikey's hand to help steady him as he hops to the floor. Frank rolls his eyes but doesn't comment.  
  
Mikey just smiles at Pete, mutters a soft "hi" which Pete mutters back, and then they kiss a few times and it's all sickeningly cute and Frank just crawls over to the door so he feels less like he's invading (and being invaded) by their couple time.  
  
In the backyard, Gerard is still hitting Ray's shoulder with the wooden spoon even as Ray's pulling himself up and trying to bat him away. Bob is composed once again and brushes past Frank into the kitchen, going to grab another sandwich.  
  
"Wentz totally schooled your asses." Frank informs them once Gerard and Ray are finally climbing the porch steps back to the kitchen. They look a little worn-out and it's hilarious. Should have hidden in the cupboards. Frank is a genius.  
  
They chorus, "Shut up", and Bob chimes in with a "Fuck you, Iero" and Frank just snickers to himself.  
  
After they clean up the kitchen as best as they can, cause they're good boys, really, they head back downstairs for more movies, this time with Pete in tow.  
  
Frank is the first one down the steps, and he's sort of hesitant now, wondering if he and Gerard are going to pick up where they left off. He scootches back into the same spot, and lucky for him everyone else follows suit, this time with Pete squished up against Mikey's side that Gerard isn't against. Frank can practically feel Gerard all tensed up next to him, and once the light are off and the next movie is playing, he feels a nudge to his thigh. Frank glances over and Gerard is just looking at him, half of his face lit up by the tv and the other half in darkness. He's smiling a bit, and shrugs his shoulders as if that's supposed to ask Frank something. Frank just raises a brow at him, then slips his leg underneath Gerard's. Gerard beams at him and nods a bit, and Frank leans heavily against his side, tangling their arms together. Damn. He could get used to this.  
  
Gerard finally relaxes after a few moments, and Frank settles in as well. Sometime towards the middle of the movie, Pete and Mikey start making out and Frank tries really hard to ignore it. Seriously, _come on_. He and Gerard share a look at a particularly prominent _smack_ sound. Gerard looks slightly horrified even though this happens all the time and he should be used to it. Frank is just trying not to laugh.  
  
Finally, Gerard rolls his eyes and pokes Mikey hard in the side. "Wouldn't you enjoy that more without an audience?"  
  
Mikey pulls away from Pete with an annoyed huff and just stares at Gerard and Frank (what the hell, it's not like he bitched at them!). He rolls his eyes back, crawls over Pete, and pulls him up as he stands. "G'night guys!" He chirps too happily, the asshole, and pulls Pete up the stairs after him, who choruses a "Night!" over his shoulder.  
  
Ray is the only one that grunts a response, and Bob is spread out on the floor with a pillow under his head, probably out for the rest of the night. Frank snickers to himself slightly and settles down against Gerard again. He doesn't remember falling asleep, but when he does he's still curled against Gerard's side, Gerard curled into him as well.  
  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
When Frank wakes up, he's curled in a tight little ball, huddled down into his hoodie and still in his jeans, but at some point a blanket was spread over him. He is immediately aware of Gerard pressed against him still, his face buried in Frank's neck and one of his arms thrown over Frank's side. His hand is under Frank's hoodie and even his shirt, his fingers warm against Frank's bare skin. One of his legs is between Gerard's, and his own hands are gripped into the front of Gerard's t-shirt.  
  
Frank wants to stretch but he doesn't want to disturb Gerard. He feels so deeply fucking content he can barely stand it. He's sort of bewildered how and why and what exactly is happening, but he's also not going to push his luck by freaking out just yet. Regardless of what it means, waking up cuddling with someone you care about is fucking awesome. Frank can't help but feel happiness bubbling in his stomach.  
  
He doesn't know what time it is, but it can't be very early. The light in the room is too bright, and doesn't have that blue-ish tinge that dawn holds. He can see that Ray and Bob are gone, either upstairs getting fed breakfast by Mrs. Way, or maybe gone home.  
  
Gerard's breath is hot and soothing against his neck, and Frank has partially faded back to sleep when he feels Gerard suddenly shift and stir.  
  
Gerard opens his eyes minutely, and pulls back to glance around, looking a little confused. Then he sees Frank watching him, and he leans back so they can talk more comfortably. Frank feels like he can’t breathe. Maybe they will just get up and act like this never happened. But then Gerard’s fingers curl more intentionally over his side, his thumb rubbing along Frank’s bottom rib. Frank feels flushed just from that little touch, he wants to arch into Gerard but he keep himself still.  
  
“Frank, I lied yesterday.” Gerard mumbles after a moment, looking down at Frank’s chest.  
  
“What? When?” Frank feels frozen, his stomach bottoms out. What could Gerard be talking about?  
  
“When I said I didn’t know why you were mad. I kind of, well, Mikey talked to me.”  
  
Oh god. Oh god. Frank wants to die right now. Die and dissolve into the blankets like he never existed.  
  
“Oh…okay.” He doesn’t know exactly what Mikey told Gerard, and he’s kind of scared to ask. Luckily, or maybe not luckily, he isn’t sure which yet, Gerard keeps talking.  
  
“I mean, like, he talked to me about how it was shitty to abandon you to be with Bert, after, like, all of you have listened to me bitch about that situation so much, especially you, and I _swore_ I was done…and, like, we had a costume together, and then I got distracted by that fucker—and I didn’t even do more than make out with him because he said something shitty about you, and I got really pissed, and I really don't even like him that much, and he kisses weird, but I was also _so_ drunk, and I couldn’t find you, and…” Gerard trails off, looking so guilty and sad. “You’re so important to me, Frank. I’m sorry.”  
  
Frank’s heart is pounding so hard, and he feels so nervous. This feels so vulnerable, laying here like this, talking closely, listening to Gerard say these things. And the way he is fucking looking at him. It’s so intense, Frank kind of wants to run away, it’s also terrifying.  
  
“I just…I just wanted to be with you, Gerard. And I—I was going to…I was trying to…” Frank mutters, trailing off into silence. He just stares at Gerard, feeling panicked.  
  
“What?” Gerard prompts, his brow furrowed.  
  
Frank leans forward suddenly and kisses Gerard, it’s quick but not too hard, and before he knows it Gerard is kissing him back forcefully, the hand on his side fisting the material and pulling Frank closer.  
  
“Oh, fuck, yes.” Frank mutters in between kissing Gerard.  
  
"Yes." Gerard breathes back, hand against Frank's jaw, cupping his face. His other hand starts to wander firmly up and down his side and back, and it feels incredible, just having Gerard touch him like that.  
  
They kiss desperately, and Frank had no idea it would feel this _good_. He runs his hands through Gerard’s hair, pushes them up his shirt, touching every part of Gerard that he can, but taking his time as they kiss for what feels like forever. He feels lost in it.  
  
Fuck, he loves this motherfucker, and Gerard is doing this thing where his hand is now under Frank's shirt and his fingers are trailing underneath the waistband of his pants, and Frank feels like he's on fire. Also, his dick is starting to strain against his jeans and he isn't really sure what to do about that. Judging on where Gerard’s dick is also pressed against his thigh, he is pretty sure he isn't alone.  
  
Apparently, Gerard has more to say, though, which doesn't really surprise Frank. It's so Gerard. "I wanted to be with you, too, Frank. I just, I've been so scared, you're my best friend, and fucking _look at you_." Frank isn't really sure what that means, but he hopes it's a good thing. "I just, I didn't want anything to get fucked up..." Gerard breathes out, his eyelids heavy, staring at Frank like he could eat him alive. Behind it, Frank sees the same old Gerard he has always known, the one who always cares more than he can handle, and overthinks everything.  
  
"Me neither, me neither." Frank whispers to him, rubbing the back of his neck and resting his forehead against Gerard's.  
  
Gerard closes the gap between them again, kissing Frank slow but dirty, his tongue doing amazing things Frank didn’t even dream of. Fuck. He's always been a little obsessed with Gerard's mouth. Frank leans up from the bed and yanks his shirt over his head, settling back down next to Gerard and tugging at his shirt. Gerard shyly complies, and seems embarrassed. Frank nuzzles into Gerard’s neck and starts to kiss it, running his hands on Gerard's smooth, soft sides. It's so much better with their shirts off, and he pushes their chests together, loving the feel of skin on skin. Gerard is so warm and so eager and his self-consciousness seems to fade away gradually. Frank is ecstatic. He gets up on his knees and swings a leg over Gerard's hip, settling himself over Gerard's soft pyjama pants. Fuck, he wishes he was wearing pyjama pants, his jeans are not exactly comfortable. Ok, change of plan, he is gonna take his pants off. Almost as quickly as he got on Gerard, he's off again and shimmying out of his jeans. He knows this isn't the smoothest, but whatever. He's never had sex before, it's not his fault.  
  
Oh, god. Sex. With Gerard. Fuck. Yes. Frank feels so giddy, it feels like this isn't happening, but it totally fucking is. Now that he's just in his boxers, he feels a lot less constrained, and he lowers himself over Gerard's hips again. Gerard groans and pushes up against him just a little, muttering a quiet _fuck_. But then he puts his hands on Frank's hips and stills him where he was just starting to grind a little.  
  
“Frank, are you…we don’t have to, I know it’s really fast, I’m happy to do whatever you want, if you aren’t sure yet—“  
  
Frank cuts him off quickly, “Motherfucker I have been thinking about this for so long I am so ready.”  
  
“You’re sure?” Gerard bites his lip, eyes raking over Frank with concern.  
  
“Yes! Wait…are you?” Frank just wants that worried look to leave Gerard’s face. But Gerard starts to nod vigorously, his hair flopping a little.  
  
“Fuck yes." Gerard breathes. Frank beams. He hopes he doesn't look too silly.  
  
Frank leans down and resumes kissing him, his hips tentatively moving against Gerard's, who inhales sharply and pushes up against Frank at the same time. Frank is pleased with the result.  
  
They start to rock against each other, and Frank sadly takes his hands off of Gerard so he can balance himself. Gerard’s hand snakes up his stomach to his chest, and before he knows it Gerard’s fingers are brushing over one of his nipples, and it feels so good he cries out softly. Frank braces himself with his hands and rocks more forcefully against Gerard’s thigh, and now Gerard’s mouth is on his nipple, and his hand touching Frank’s dick through the thin fabric.  
  
"Oh, _Gerard, fuck_ , I'm really, I'm close..." He whines, his back arching as his toes curl. Not long after, he comes hard, groaning into Gerard’s shoulder and collapsing on him, feeling like it’s too soon but he isn’t surprised, he’s fucking having sex for the first time and it’s with _Gerard_ and Gerard’s hand is on his dick.  
  
Gerard strokes him through it as Frank gasps against him, taking a moment to come back to himself. When it gets too much, Gerard’s hand moves to his hip, and then he tips Frank to the side and crawls on top of him. Frank is basking in the afterglow, he feels so warm and happy, and he makes a satisfied sound. Gerard kisses him slowly, pushing his hair out of the way.  
  
“Okay?” He asks softly.  
  
“Yes. So fucking okay.” Frank mutters breathlessly. He lays there a few more seconds, taking deep breaths and enjoying Gerard playing with his hair. But he hasn’t forgotten that he hasn’t really touched Gerard yet, and he is so here for that.  
  
“Can you…can you take your pants off?” Hey, he wants one of them to have been totally naked, what can he say. “Can you take everything off?”  
  
Gerard bites his lip and swallows thickly, and Frank is really enjoying the effect his words can have on Gerard. He nods and briefly sits up to remove the rest of his clothing, and then lays back next to Frank, just looking at him intensely, waiting.  
  
Frank smiles and he leans into Gerard kissing him, his hands starting to explore down Gerard’s chest and stomach. He doesn’t go for Gerard’s dick right away, but instead takes some time to explore around his thighs and lower stomach, hopefully driving Gerard a little crazy.  
  
Once he’s done with a bit of teasing, Frank straddles Gerard’s hips again. Apparently he likes being on top of Gerard. But this time Gerard is fucking naked, and his dick is hard, and Frank can see it, which is great. Frank leans to the side of the bed and reaches under the bed until he finds the lube he knows Gerard keeps there. Maybe it’s weird that he knows where that is, but whatever, it’s very useful right now.  
  
He squirts a good amount on his hand, and brings his hand back to Gerard. He knows the lube is going to be cold, but he doesn’t know if there’s something he should do about that, and he figures it’ll warm up pretty fast. Trying not to overthink it, he closes his hand around Gerard’s dick and starts to move slowly, letting out his own groan, this is fucking turning him on again, just feeling Gerard like this.  
  
Gerard inhales sharply as Frank touches him, his hands seeming like they don’t know what to do with themselves, alternating between touching Frank’s chest and pushing against the headrest. His hips start to move, and Frank strokes him carefully.  
  
It’s so obscene, sitting above Gerard like this, where he can see everything, just watching him as he starts to writhe beneath him. Gerard fists have decided to clench the bedsheets and he lets out a gasp, arching up into Frank as he picks up speed a little.  
  
It doesn’t take very long until Gerard starts to buck beneath him. “Fuck, Frank, oh my god, _yeah_.” Gerard moans, and it sounds so dirty Frank is delighted. A few more strokes and Gerard comes all over, his whole body tensing. Frank slows down but keeps touching him gently, eventually stopping and leaning down to kiss Gerard long and slow.  
  
Eventually, Frank flops over beside him. He grabs a few tissues from Gerard’s bedside, and wipes away some of the mess, not caring that it isn’t perfect. He settles in next to Gerard.  
  
“So…was that okay?” He asks, suddenly feeling a bit shy, really hoping Gerard enjoyed that as much as he did.  
  
Gerard just looks at him, eyes intense, and he smiles. He puts a hand around the back of his neck and pulls Frank in to kiss him. He holds him there for a moment, so he can speak into Frank’s ear. ”I’m gonna suck your dick next time.” Gerard tells him, still breathing hard. He will take that as a yes. Frank shudders and lets out a small groan, gripping Gerard and kissing him again. That is one hundred percent the hottest thing that has ever been said to him.  
  
They kiss a little longer, kind of lazily, and it’s really nice. Frank wonders if Mikey is going to be happy that he won’t have to deal with their moodiness anymore, or horrified because Frank might tell him things about Gerard’s dick. Wow, his brain is still catching up. He can’t believe this all just happened, and he feels so thrilled.  
  
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An hour or so later, they’re laying in Gerard’s bed finishing the movie they had fallen asleep to last night.  
  
Suddenly, a thought hits him. "Wait. What the fuck did Bert say about me?"  
  
“Oh.” Gerard’s ears went pink. “He just said it was a pretty good party for a short virgin fag. Except he said banging instead of pretty good, which is stupid.”  
  
“Bert called me a short virgin fag? What the fuck! I’m gonna kill him.” Frank’s face must look incredulous. So rude.  
  
“I mean…no offence but it was true. But I would never let him say that about you!” Gerard adds quickly when Frank shoots him a look. “Only like, me, you, and Mikey can say that.”  
  
Frank waggles his eyebrows and nudges Gerard with his elbow. “Not true anymore. Eh. Eh. Eh. Get it?”  
  
Gerard rolls his eyes. Frank adds, “Because we just had sex.”  
  
“Yes! I do get it, thank you!” Gerard shoves a pillow in Frank’s face, but he just giggles into it.  
  
“Hey, Gerard.” He says, composing himself and removing the pillow, scooting closer. “Want to de-virgin me some more?” He says in his best mock-sexy voice.  
  
“Only if you won’t call it that.” Gerard groans, but inhales sharply when Frank is suddenly straddling him. Gerard isn’t laughing anymore, he’s just watching Frank, rubbing his thumb under Frank’s shirt.  
  
“Deal.” 

**Author's Note:**

> lol thnx for reading this (:  
> i will be posting more fics in the near future...probably? anyway stay tuned i guess


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